


Heads or Tails Pt. 1

by PrettyMessedUpSituation (MarcelinesNightosphere)



Series: Lazy Sunday [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Blow Jobs, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Food, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Super Bowl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 23:01:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3267575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcelinesNightosphere/pseuds/PrettyMessedUpSituation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Super Bowl Sunday! Pies are in the oven, food is made, company is on their way, and Dean makes a move that gets him into some trouble. Cas has lovingly devised a plan to get some well-deserved retribution for Dean's dick move. All Dean has to do is pick a team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heads or Tails Pt. 1

Cas quietly adjusted a few coasters on the end tables and the coffee table, leaving plenty of room for Dean’s Super Bowl food spread. He moved nervously around the living room to dust the bookshelf and make sure everything was perfect. He knew none of the guys would care, but company was company and he wanted to make a good impression, even if they’d been over tens of times. Sam would be the only person that would notice the extra effort, and that alone made Cas happy to do it. Plus it kept him busy while Dean was out getting food. Looking at the clock, he realized Dean would be back before long. He went into their room and found his jersey he’d just bought, pulling it over his head. Returning to the living room, he gave it one last glance over then moved to the kitchen to prep some of the appetizers. Technically being all finger foods, everything that day was going to be appetizers – but these he had control of.

He was proud of the spinach and artichoke dip in a bread bowl and the guacamole with baked corn tortilla chips that he’d made himself that morning. Placing raw baby carrots and slices of cucumber, broccoli and cauliflower in a ring on a plate with a ranch dip in the middle, Cas finished off his arrangement. The food lined the counter at the bar in the kitchen, surely enough to feed everyone when added to what Dean was bringing.

The front door opened and Dean bumped his way into the apartment, his arms full of paper sacks and laden with plastic bags.

“Hey!” he said as kicked the door closed behind him. “You put pre-game on?”

“Not yet,” Cas said hurriedly, reaching for the remote and turning on the television.

“What’s all this?” Dean asked with a chuckle, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter and stove.

“Crudités,” Cas said, sliding into the kitchen. “And just some things I made.”

“Crudités? Sam’s gonna love you. What’s in the oven?” Dean asked, peeking in through the glass. “Mini-pies?” He looked back to Cas. “You’re making mini-pies?”

“I know I went a little overboard, but I was cooking because I was nervous about today going well and then I had these apples and –“

“Oh, stop it Cas. It’s great. Really. And there’s no need to be nervous.” Dean unpacked all the boxes of wings and sliders and set the soda by the sink. “You’ve met all these guys before.”

“In passing, Dean. At a party maybe. And I don’t know anything about football, no matter how much you’ve tried to tell me about it.”

Dean looked at Cas and was about to say something, but held up his hand in interruption. “Is that…is that a Patriots jersey?”

Cas tugged at his shirt. “Uh, yes?”

Dean laughed. “Okay, that may get you picked on. But nothing else.”

“Is this not the right guy?” Cas said, half turning around.

“Wrong team.” Cas’s face fell, but Dean laughed. He walked around to meet Cas and grabbed his face in his hands. “You’re fine. You’ll be okay. Everything is perfect. The guys are going to come, eat, watch the game, eat some more, drink, and leave. Breathe, okay buddy?”

Cas took a deep breath. “Okay, Dean.”

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

Dean smirked. “You’re making me apple pie.”

“Technically, I’m making pie for everyone, but yes, I’m making you pie,” Cas answered.

Dean moved his face closer to Cas’s and whispered. “How much longer til the pie’s done?”

Cas looked over to the stove. “Ten minutes.”

Dean’s voice dropped. “I can think of a few things we can do in ten minutes.” Dean kissed Cas, lightly biting his lip. His hands drifted down Cas’s jersey and around his waist, unbuckling his belt. Popping the button on Cas’s jeans, Dean kissed Cas deeper, a wanton moan stripping Cas of his nervousness, falling instantly to Dean’s whims. Dean pulled Cas from his pants, gently stroking him, matching pace with the movements of their mouths. Dropping to his knees right there in the kitchen, Dean pushed his lips over Cas’s head, gripping his cock at the base.

Cas was brought back to reality for a moment. “What are you doing?”

Dean didn’t bother to answer. He smiled and went back to the task at hand. He rolled his tongue under Cas’s cock as he sucked, bringing Cas to lean forward nearly knocking Dean back as he gripped onto the counter. His laugh in response came out like a hum against Cas’s skin, driving Cas further toward overwhelming pleasure. The strokes of Dean’s hand met his mouth as he worked Cas’s cock, throwing everything he had into bringing Cas to the brink. A hand fell onto his head and gripped his hair. Cas’s breathing became more labored, cursing under his breath. His hips rocked toward Dean, tapping him on the shoulder when he was about to come. Dean moved pulled Cas’s cock out of his mouth and pointed it up under Cas’s jersey as Cas came, Dean cupping his free hand over the jersey to contain the mess.

Cas flushed, his cheeks pink. “Did you really just do that?”

Dean stood and gave Cas a quick kiss as a coda. “Guess you have to change that jersey, huh?”

“You’re such a shit, Dean.”

The kitchen timer went off on the stove.

“I guess I’ll wash my hands and get that while you get changed,” Dean said, still smiling.

Cas stood unmoving, trying not to look remotely amused. He wanted to laugh, but he was also very mad. So very mad.

Loud knocks on the door startled Cas. He ran to their bedroom, closing the door behind him as Sam let himself in.

“You guys ready for some football?” Sam's voice boomed through the apartment. “Oh, sweet, is that artichoke and spinach dip?”

“Yup,” Dean said as he pulled the pies out of the oven. “Cas made it himself. And these.”

“Awesome. When will the guys from the garage be here?”

“Any minute now, I’m sure.”

Cas came out of the bedroom in a gray shirt looking surly. “Hello, Sam.”

“Hey Cas, this is amazing,” he said, scooping more dip onto a square of bread. “Did you make the guacamole too?”

“Yes, I did,” Cas sighed. “Although I wish I hadn’t made any pie.”

“Aw, are you in trouble, Dean?” Sam teased.

“Possibly,” he answered. One look from Cas made him clear his throat and stop smiling. “Definitely,” he said, correcting himself. “Definitely in trouble.”

“I’ll leave that alone. You guys betting on the game?” Sam asked, changing the subject.

“I don’t know,” Dean answered. “Are we Cas?”

“Let’s flip for it,” Cas said, crossing the kitchen to Dean. “I think I deserve a little payback. Let’s say it’s Patriots heads, Seahawks tails.”

“What’s on the line?” Dean asked.

Cas smiled. “Your ass.”

Sam choked. “I’m just…I’m just gonna go watch the pre-game.” He picked up a beer and went to the couch, trying not to laugh.

“I…what…” Dean stammered, knowing he owed Cas big time for doing something so fucked up.

Cas stood in front of Dean, crossing his arms. “Your ass. Or your mouth. Heads or tails, Dean?”

Dean held back a grin. “ _Shit._ I’m in trouble.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this is taken in the tone it is meant and no one is offended - Cas is most definitely doing this in a "you little shit" kind of way, and Dean is absolutely game. It's all in fun and a little domestic payback, and nothing angry, violent, or crude (other than sexy times) implied. I hope I made sure that was clear.  
> Also I AM SO SORRY if you're a Patriots fan. I personally have no preference.


End file.
